@yonipponichiâ || Plotted Starter
   The bitter cold of autumn was just beginning to set in, paving the dirt road with crisp leaves and dried up mud; the sheen of ice gluing what remained of the grass to the earth in the early morning chill. While this path itself was never frequently traveled, not when there were trains that cut through Hokkaido and tours that strayed away from the more treacherous paths for the safety of its members. They remember, though, back when this road had once been full of visitors - young and old, that all whispers a silent prayer to them for safe passage as they tugged on their boots and gathered their children to their bodies to keep them warm as they made the trek into the livelier parts of the region. Itâs been decades - no, likely longer, since those days but theyâve lost track of the time. It all seems to blur together these days and they no longer truly recall how long its been since theyâve taken up this post. But they donât mind the quiet; they enjoy it, in fact. The company of the few birds nesting upon their aged shrine is welcome, more so than the chaos and spite that always seems to cling to humans no matter how kindly they speak or how politely they carry themselves.Â
    Humans are almost always selfish, cruel creatures they have learned. Yet the owls that take shelter beneath their crudely polished stones, clean their feathers, and chirp amongst themselves are innocent - animals are incapable of cruelty and they wish it were possible to truly touch them. But when they lean forward upon the roof of their meager shrine to ghost their icy fingers over the birdâs soft feathers, they feel nothing - their hand passes through its solid form and the owl lets out a screech of surprise as it lifts its frozen wings and attempts to fly away only to fall upon the frozen earth. With a series of screeches echoing through the mountain that rattled their formless body they watched; cold, blue eyes twisting open in concern as the bird continued to struggle. Leaping onto the ground, they made their way over to the bird, hand lingering above its form like they wished to help it. But if they touched it again, they would only hurt it more.Â
    Lips curing downward into a frown, they returned to the shrine, rummaging through the offerings for something anything that might warm the bird - pulling out an old scarf at the bottom. Carefully taking it between their thumb and index finger to prevent from freezing too much of the cloth, they went back to the bird, kneeling down beside it and dropping the scarf upon its wing before rubbing the thick cloth against its feathers to thaw out the tiny bits of ice clinging to its body. It was still for a long moment - unable to see them and unable to touch them; confused and dazed, but seemingly comforted by the warmth. Yet, the moment the poor creatures hears the sound of footsteps echoing off of the shrineâs old, wooden walls, it wiggles away from the scarf, stretches its trembling wings and takes off. At first it dips several times, but it eventually regains its balance, much to Hakuâs relief.Â
    They watch the bird until its frame vanishes into the sunrise, only then do they turn to face the shrine and the woman currently standing before it. Visitors were rare after spring twisted into fall and the weather began to take a turn for the worse, even the locals who normally made it part of their daily routine to visit them would miss days, even weeks, here and there for the sake of their own safety; a visitor that they had been never seen before was rarer still. Even so, her prayer still reaches their ears; carried by the wind to them as they make their way over to the stranger. âTo wish for such a thing from meâŠyou would be better off praying at the temples within the city.â They doubt they will be heard, let alone seen, but habit makes them speak anyway, perhaps simply because they hope one day someone will hear them - if for no other reason than to fill the void that has seemingly plagued them since the day this shrine was made their home. Â
Ah, the north was always so cold!
Hokkaido was such a beautiful island, she loved it when her profession would bring her there, but Mai would never get used to the cold weather, colder than her natal Kyoto. Not only that, but she was naturally made for hot climates and burning rays of sun! But she was fortunate at least, the power of the fire inside of her allowed her to keep her body always warm and hot, making lower temperatures actually bearable.
Mai breathed fire into her hands as she walked her way through the flora painted in autumn colors, and covered in a white veil. The chirping of the birds echoed ahead, only their singign and Maiâs footsteps seemed to be the only sounds all around the old, dusty path towards the shrine. She hadnât planned to, but when she heard of it, the kunoichi knew she had to go pay respects to the local deities -- that was the way she was raised. Honoring the past, and those who came before us.
Well, after a nice walk, Mai found herself in front of the old builsing. It was beautiful in itâs own way, that was certain...Mai always found herself drawn back to places that reminded her of home: old buildings, lush forests, walls made of wood and stone, worn down by the centuries. She approached the shrine, a hop in her step signaling her good mood, and a sunny smile on her face that couldâve melted ice. Â
She prayed for good fortune on her upcoming fight, good health, and for her ancestors to watch her with pride.
Mai was, all of the sudden, startled by a voice -- it came from nowhere, and yet, it sounded like it was everywhere. She turned around, her feet moving swiftly on the wood, getting on a cautious stance, behind her she was met by the sight of a person. âExcuse me, what?â She looked at them curious, and surprised. The first thing she noticed, was how they looked...it was hard to describe, but âetherealâ perhaps was the best way to put it.Â
âGee! Where did you come from, I totally didnât hear you!â She laughed lightly, a little amezed, after all sneaking up on a ninja is not something any run of the mill fella can do! âSorry, what did you say about other temples? I thought it was open to the public here.â
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